


Hide and seek

by SnaggTeeth



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Amputation, Body Horror, Enemies to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Gore, Horror, Incomplete, M/M, Monsters, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 23:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13751916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnaggTeeth/pseuds/SnaggTeeth
Summary: With no memory of the previous night Jamison Fawkes wakes up in a cell alone, injured and the door practically wide open allowing him to leave when he pleases.Unfortunately things are not nearly as simple as they seem and soon Jamison finds himself in a very dangerous game of hide and seek with a creature of metal and flesh.





	Hide and seek

**Author's Note:**

> Sudden and out of nowhere steampunk horror fic? Yes please.
> 
> Experimenting with ideas and figured I could try writing more horror ish stuff.

It was dark. Dust filling both the air and his lungs. The cold stone floor sent chills prickilling along his skin as he turned over trying to will his body off the ground only to be met with a searing pain along his chest and a dull ache in his head. As he fumbled around with his right and only hand all he’d find was a damp puddle of his own blood and dirty water. He’d try to turn again, forcing his heavy eyes open for a few short seconds. The dim light of a flame flickers at the far side of the room, metal bars separating him from it and the rest of the world. No windows, a single wooden door situated on the far wall with the torch flame, footsteps echoing behind it. 

A figure entered approaching the bars of his prison. His vision flickered as his conscious began to slip from him once again. Eyes shutting once again he instead focused on the sounds around him, desperate to get some information about what exactly had happened to him before his body gave up on him once again. 

Footsteps shuffled, echoing in the stone room as they paced the bars. The click of a lock, the creak of the door, shutting quietly as the stranger entered the cage. Now was his chance, a moment to escape. His mind screamed to go, make a run for it. His body refused, instead choosing to remain still, Useless. 

He felt the figure move, cold hands searching his body for a pulse the stranger letting out a satisfied chuckle when they found it. 

“Still alive I see, good that’ll make things much easier”.

They pushed him onto his back, rummaging through the pockets of his coat and pulling out everything try could find. Keys to his home, a few loose coins, his wallet. This was a rather elaborate mugging to say the least. They’d take his coat then check his wounds, the jolt of pain brought on by the press of a damp cloth to the gash on his chest alerting him enough to keep him from slipping away to sleep for a few moments more although his eyes remained shut, too tired to open. The shuffling continued as what little money he had was pulled from his wallet and pocketed, the coins clinking as they fell out onto the stone below. The stranger chuckled again, the damp cloth returning to his skin. 

“Well Mr. Fawkes I can assure you that your time here will be most pleasant and I am sure You’ll enjoy what I have planned for you”. 

He wanted to run, spit in their face, bite and kick, anything to get his freedom but instead he slipped away, senses fading as sleep took a hold on him once again.

When he’d wake again the pain in his body had dulled significantly. He could move at least pushing himself up to sit. He was still on the floor but the puddle had long since dried. His stuff was gone all he had on him was his clothes and even then his shoes and coat had been taken. He was still trapped behind the bars, locked tight in the tiny cell. 

His wounds however had been patched up. Gash on his chest sewn cleanly shut and wrapped, his head wrapped also. He wasn't even aware that had bled. Wrappings also covered his feet, traveling up his legs and stopping just below his knees. Whoever had trapped him here knew what they were doing he was almost impressed. If it wasn't for the fact he was caged against his will he might of almost of been thankful. 

Slowly he stood, using the bars to pull himself upwards. Almost immediately he noticed the small table in the corner of the cell, a cup of water, plate of stale bread and a note neatly placed on top. Going for the water first he’d chug it down reaching for the bread only to back off at the sight of a roach clinging to it equally as hungry as he was. Instead he picked up the note, face twisting in a mixture of confusion and anger as he read the note out loud to himself, stumbling on a few words thanks to the impeccable neatness of the cursive it was written in.

“Thank you for your c-co cooperation Mr.Fawkes the data you have p-provided has been most useful to me. You are free to leave when you please…?” 

Free to leave? Bullshit! If he was free to go then why the hell was he still caged? And what the hell did they mean? ‘data provided’? All that was missing was his money, his coat. What the hell would that give? Had they done something while he was out cold? His hand went to his chest, gripping tightly at the wrappings as he began to pace along the length of the cell, anger quickly slipping into fear at the severity of the situation. He had to get out, leave, escape. The note said he was free to leave when he wanted so was the cell really locked. Slowly he reached for the metal bars of the door giving them a gentle push. 

It creaked open.

He was free, of the cage at least but the note didn't lie he was free to go. The issue was however he didn't know where to go exactly. All he saw in front of him beyond the metal bars were stone walls, a dim torch and a single wooden door. 

It was the only way, he had no choice. Fear gripped him as be prepared himself, taking a deep breath that tightened at its peak due to the stitches. Tentatively he makes the short walk from the cell to the door, plucking the torch from the wall before heading through the door. It creaked open, hinges rusted with again and for a moment Fawkes worried They’d lock or break the noise echoing through the walls and attracting the much unwanted attention of the stranger. To his luck they remained solid, the door opening Into a long hallway, dimly lit by a few weak flames dotting the walls along the hall, some close to flickering out completely. He could see a door at the far end and a break or two in the walls on either side indicating more doors to choose from. He’d try each on the slow walk down but none opened, all either locked or boarded off, dried blood decorating one of those boarded off, it made him uneasy. 

The door at the far end opened up just as easily as the first, this time greeting him with a set of spiralling stairs fading up into the darkness above. Again with no choice on where to go he made his way up, leaning himself on the wall as he went for balance, his only hand occupied by the torch that provided the only light he had, his only sense of safety. As he went the sounds of the cells below began to fade. Squeaking of rats, dripping of water and the crumbling of rock fading into something rather surprising, he almost welcomed it. 

Music. 

Distant, even as he reached the top of the stairs. The door waiting for him already cracked open an inch and allowing light to filter through. Another hall greeted him only this time instead of cold stone or rotten wood he was instead greeted with elegant wallpapers, intricate paintings of various scenes of families enjoying the sun or markets busy with life. Potted plants and bookcases decorated the edges, lamps lighting the way through leaving the torch in his hand utterly useless. 

Choosing to keep on moving Fawkes made his way to the door at the other end the hall, the music getting louder as he went. An oddly cheerful tune, warning children of the ‘boogey man’ and how to ward him off. It was unsettling and for a moment Fawkes wanted to run back to his cell just to hide away from the nagging fear presented to him. But again, he had to continue, it was his only hope for escape. 

The room at the other end was relatively empty save for the table in the center. It was all he could see as it held the only light source a candle far too dim to light up the edges of the room. With it was a gramophone repeating the dapper tune once it stopped. 

Cautiously he stepped over, flinching slightly as the record skipped, repeating the first few notes of the jazzy opening over and over again. Quickly he reached out, removing the pin and stopping the tune before its scratch attracted the wrong kind of attention, filling the room with a silence, a silence that quickly turned into something far more sinister than the scratch of a record. 

Almost as soon as the tune ended the room filled with the echo of a deep, booming, mechanical groan. Originating from somewhere above where Fawkes stood. He held up the torch flame, trying to spot anything that might of caused it. Two glints of red shined in the light like eyes piercing into him as they locked onto the flame. 

He should have never of left the cell.

**Author's Note:**

> The song is Boogey man by Henry hall, an overly cheery tune about chasing away a creature of the night and it is kind of what prompted me to write this in the first place. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! More chapters are to come!


End file.
